


Candlelight

by hungryhungryhobbits



Series: A Collection of Fanfics about Brodad [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: 100 prompt couples challenge, Est. relationship - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, early on in their relationship though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungryhungryhobbits/pseuds/hungryhungryhobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on prompt 41 from the 100 couples prompt challenge over on deviantart.</p><p>Basically Bro fucks up a lot when planning for a date with Egbert and tries to pull it off as irony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ironic preparation

**Author's Note:**

> I'd imagine this as being somewhat early on in their relationship, in an AU where they live in the same state as opposed to them being in a long distance relationship like my first two. You don't have to read the other fics to know what's going on in this one, each of them are stand alone fics.
> 
> That being said, I hope you like it. :3

Bro sat on the futon, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. A deep sigh escaped him as he looked over at the two horribly burnt steaks on the counter in the kitchen. He's made steak before, how could he fuck it up so royally the night of his supposedly romantic candlelit dinner with James? He thought he was being clever, taking a "quick" shower as he left the steaks on the grill. Most of the time his showers lasted less than 10 minutes too, but because he wanted everything to be perfect he took way too long and burnt the steaks to a crisp (and the apartment building) in the process. It wasn't even both sides, one side was extra creepy and the other was so raw it could walk around on its own.

Maybe he'd order a pizza and put it on paper plates and still have a candle lit dinner and try to pull it off as ironic? Yeah, that's probably the worst idea he's ever had, he thought as he picked up the phone and ordered a large supreme pizza. He hung up with the promise that it'd be there in twenty-five minutes. Checking the clock on his phone, he saw it was 6:00; about thirty minutes till Egbert should get there.

Oh shit, Egbert's going to be there in thirty minutes and Bro's still in boxers and a t-shirt. He dashed to his closet and wasted most of his precious time picking and choosing the perfect clothes for that night. Would a tux be too formal? Probably. Maybe jeans and a button up shirt? Nah, too casual.

He finally settled for a long sleeved black button up shirt with an amber colored tie and black slacks. He stared at himself in the mirror, realizing that the cap he was wearing threw the whole outfit through a loop. He tugged it off, threw it on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. After messing with it for another moment or two, he realized he had the worst hat hair ever. Why did he think it would be a good idea to put on his cap right after he got out of the shower? Must've been force of habit.

He sighed and decided he might as well try a different colored cap. He went back out into the living room to the mountain of hats in the corner and picked up an orange one and a black one. Going back to the mirror, he tried on each of them. He decided on the orange one, even though the shade was a bit off from his tie, he figured it'd be alright and secured it on his head.

His next problem was his shades. Should he keep them on? His eyes were sensitive though. But would it really be a problem in a dimly lit room, with the only light coming from candles? Egbert _did_ tell him he wanted to see what his eyes looked like... Maybe it'd be best if he didn't wear them. So he took them off and put them on his bed, next to his grey cap. He glanced at himself one last time in the mirror to make sure everything about himself was in order, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles in his shirt.

Then the doorbell rang.

And at the same instant, nervous butterflies flooded in his gut, as if they were caged and trying to be set free. This was it, he told himself as he walked out of his room to the door. Time to show Egbert what he's got.

He opened the door and it only took a moment's confusion to remember that, oh right, he ordered pizza like the unromantic loser that he is. The young pizza boy recited the price to him as if he rehearsed it on the way over here, with an expression of pure boredom and distaste for his job. Poor guy. Bro felt bad for him. He remembered being a pizza guy in his late teens, early twenties to pay for little Dave, living off of tips. But that was a long time ago, before he took up DJing and before his smuppet business went off the charts. And he should stop reminiscing because according to his watch he had about five minutes till Egbert got there. So he took the pizza and paid the teenager with a generous tip before shooing him away.

He set the table with paper plates, plasticware, a couple of candles and the pizza (out of the box, of course) as a centerpiece. Looking back into the kitchen he saw the half-scorched, half-raw steaks were still sitting out and he dumped them. He didn't want Egbert to find out if he could help it. Now that the two faced steaks were gone, he had to think of what to do with the expensive bottle of wine he got for the occasion. Shrugging, he put it on the table anyway, putting a plastic cup next to each plate. When else would he have an opportunity to drink expensive wine with someone other than he, himself and him? Exactly, because God knows that Egbert will probably never come back for any sort of date at his apartment.

He had to step back for a moment to admire the horrible, beautiful irony before him. If the situation wasn't as serious as it was, he'd be patting himself on the back for his efforts. A square table with a white table cloth (provided specifically for the occasion) with two paper plates and plasticware, two plastic cups, a bottle of fine wine to the side, two unlit - which he was quick to mend, lighting them with a cigarette lighter - candles, and a steaming supreme pizza smack dab in the middle of it all.

He made a few last minute touches around the living room like shoving the smuppets into small mountains next to his other small mountain of colorful caps and turning off the lights to make the effects of the candle light more pronounced. Just then, his doorbell rang for the second time that night and this time the butterflies attempting to escape his system were justified. He checked his appearance one last time in the mirror, moving his hair out of his face and checking for any food in his teeth. His heart pounded in his throat as he opened the door, making sure to maintain a cool poker face all the while. Not that it really mattered, his eyes were horribly expressive anyway.


	2. A Small Confession

James stood next to the Strider residence's doorway, checking his watch every few seconds. He wanted to be exactly on time. Making good impressions was all about being punctual anyway, right? Not that he had any impression to make, he already made one a long time ago. But this was his first time seeing where the Striders lived, and he didn't want to seem like he dreaded going there.

It was 5:58 and he took to pacing the length of the hallway impatiently, trying not to stare at his watch too much, nor think about whether or not he should have changed before he arrived at his destination. He wore his usual business attire but, because it was what he usually wore, would it be considered not fancy enough? Strider promised him a romantic candelit dinner, maybe he should've at least changed the color scheme of his outfit? He shoved these thoughts out of his mind with a small wave of his hand. It’s not like he could go home now and change, so it’s no use worrying about it, he told himself.

Finally, his watch struck 6:00 and he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. To his dismay, it didn’t work very well, or at all, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before lifting one hand up to push the doorbell.

He didn’t have to wait long however, for just a moment later Strider answered the door and, as cliché as it sounded, the sight that greeted him took his breath away. Warm amber eyes met icy blue ones. He didn’t even know that color was genetically possible. He found that, to his relief, Strider was wearing basically what he wore, just with different colors. A nervous smile spread the corners of his lips as Strider invited him inside. He reached up instinctively to take off his fedora, but then realized that the other was still wearing his cap (wait, wasn’t it usually grey?) and figured he could leave it on.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” The younger man welcomed him as he led them to the table. The smell of freshly delivered pizza permeated the air, causing James’ eyebrows to furrow in confusion. Wasn’t this supposed to be a romantic dinner? He admittedly didn’t expect a lot out of Strider but... Really? When he sat at the table, he tried not to show his disappointment. Perhaps this had to do with irony? He didn’t understand the whole idea very well, though he did try to.

He didn’t want to be rude, but he had to ask, “What’s with this whole set up? Does it have to do with all this irony you keep telling me about?” Maybe it would strike up a conversation, he told himself.

Strider nodded with a small smile, though his eyes had a flicker of... uncertainty? Nervousness? He couldn’t tell, maybe it was just a trick of the candle light. “Yeah, I thought that since it’s a bit difficult to explain, that maybe if I put it into practice it would be easier for you. And what better place than my own, where it’s easiest to perfect every touch?” His eyes never looked up to meet James’ as he talked, focusing on grabbing a couple of slices of pizza without the cheese sliding off.

James nodded. He thought he was getting the hang of it. “Okay, but I’m still having a bit of trouble understanding it. Can you explain?” After asking this he reached up and grabbed a slice of his own, biting into it eagerly. On the one hand, he didn’t expect this at all, but on the other hand, he hasn’t been able to have a supreme pizza since he found John.

“Of course.” Strider replied before biting into his own slice and continuing, “Well, this is ironic because you would expect a romantic dinner to have something fancy like, say, a couple of steaks. But this is the exact opposite, but it’s used in a romantic setting. Really, the only thing that’s remotely romantic are the candles and wine, but you get the idea. Speaking of, would you like some wine?” He picked up the already uncorked bottle, poured himself some into his cup before his hand paused over James’ until he nodded.

“I think I know what you’re talking about. I don’t think I’ve ever had wine with pizza before...” He trailed off and brought the plastic cup to his mouth and took a sip. It tasted very sweet, almost like a dessert wine. Strider probably hasn’t gotten used to more mature wines, he was still young after all, he thought. As sweet as the drink was, however, it didn’t go very well with the pizza, at all.

But before he could mention anything about it (nor did he want to, he didn’t want to seem rude) Strider’s face scrunched up slightly after he had a sip of his own and almost mumbled, “Yeah okay, that was a really stupid idea, why would I do that, I should’ve known that this wouldn’t go with pizza at all, Jesus fuck I’m so sorry.” He got up to put the bottle in the kitchen, putting the cork back in it as he left the table. He came back and grabbed the two cups before the older man could protest, that it was fine, it wasn’t that bad. Strider turned on the lights in the kitchen, which was actually only a few feet away, and called back to James half-jokingly, “How about some beer instead? Can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“You don’t have to go through the trouble, it’s fine really-” The businessman started before he got cut off.

“Sorry to disappoint but I already opened the bottle so you’re obligated to drink it now.” The younger man told him with a smile.

“The wine was already opened as well though...” James mumbled, trailing off.

“Yes, but the wine was shitty with the pizza.” Strider corrected him.

“Alright alright. So is this another bit of irony I’m experiencing or is it just something you say to cover up whatever you screwed up on?” He asked, half-jokingly and half-serious. But after he said it, he saw a look of “oh shit” cross the other's features. Almost like he figured something out he shouldn’t have. Strider looked down at the table, biting his lip. "...Strider?"

"Yeah okay, you got me." He admitted, frowning.

"What do you mean? I was just joking." James asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I actually was planning on having a legitimate romantic dinner. I got steaks and good plates and all that shit. But I screwed up the steaks so horribly I don't think they were eatable. Now don't get me wrong, I'm actually good at cooking, I just... I don't know what happened. So I ordered a pizza and tried to pull it off as irony. I'm so sorry, this isn't what you were expecting at all and I screwed everything up and..." He explained as if he didn't hear a word his boyfriend said, like he didn't want to say any of that but couldn't go back and fix it so he kept going. "And you probably wouldn't have suspected a thing unless I said all this just now. ...Fuck me." He mumbled to himself as an after thought.

James couldn't help but laugh at the small rant he heard. To which he received an embarrassed glare before he explained, "Haven't I told you before you even planned this whole thing? I don't care how romantic or ironic it is. We could be in a five star restaurant for all I care. So long as we're spending time together I don't care what we do. So don't stress yourself out so much about it, alright?"

Strider's ears turned slightly red at that, but nodded, saying stubbornly, "Alright, alright, but I still want a redo of this fiasco of a date."

To which the other man shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Whatever floats your boat. But really, the pizza is nice. I haven't been able to have a supreme pizza since John stopped eating baby food."

"Really? Shit man I would've bought a pizza for myself."

"Well unlike you I'm an old man. I can't afford the luxury of a whole pizza to myself without getting stomach problems."

They chatted and bantered in this way until Strider ate half the pizza and James ate a measly two slices. At least the latter half of the night had gone as planned, with ironically shitty rom-coms and cuddling and falling asleep to the sound of movie credits rolling endlessly off the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over! I had a lot of fun writing this. It's shorter than I wanted it to be, but it's the longest fanfic I've written so far! I think I was planning on writing some more on what happened afterwards, but I don't remember...
> 
> Anyway! I hope you liked it, comments and kudos are much appreciated. :3

**Author's Note:**

> In the next chapter it's gonna be in Dad's point of view! Wow how exciting. This isn't going to be very long, maybe only about two more chapters after this one.
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated and contribute to my motivation to write!


End file.
